


This Sunday Business

by Liadt



Category: Callan (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Crack, M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-25
Updated: 2013-05-25
Packaged: 2017-12-12 22:48:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/816959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liadt/pseuds/Liadt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU for 'A Magnum for Schneider'</p><p>Warnings for swearing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Sunday Business

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the novelisation of 'A Magnum for Schneider' by James Mitchell where Callan goes on about how great Schneider is.

David Callan examined the noguchi magnum revolver, felt it’s weight and tested it. As he went through the familiar motions of squeezing the trigger his thoughts drifted. Why Schneider? He liked Schneider. More than liked. Could Hunter have known they would get along? Hunter was a bastard.

For over a fortnight after killing Donner, Hunter’s face had been in Callan’s nightmares. He needed sleep to allow him to concentrate on the task of assassinating Schneider. The nightmares were back and didn’t feature Donner who had wept and made Callan “soft”. Soft enough to leave section, a branch of the secret service who “removed” people who posed a threat to national security. Hunter wanted him back, back like he was before. Callan finished aiming and firing the empty revolver and pushed bullet cartridges into the gun with more force than was necessary. I’ll show Hunter how soft I can be.

Schneider and I haven’t killed the sod yet. What’s he doing in my head? If I kill someone who is in my head already will I be back to being Hunter’s blue eyed boy with all the red files as my plum pie? Meres wouldn’t like it, something we’d have in common. Callan smiled grimly to himself thinking of his fellow agent who desperately wanted the status Callan had had at section. Callan tapped the gun absent mindedly on the kitchen table. He’d take Schneider up on his offer to see his model soldiers again.

*****

R.Schneider: Imports and Exports

Callan was examining a model of a Prussian cavalry man in Schneider’s office. Next to the battalion of model troops on the desk was a picture of Schneider’s wife making an unlikely earthwork on the desk.

“A penny for your thoughts” said Schneider, in the carefully precise voice of a continental gentleman.

Callan replaced the lead soldier and looked up. “I was thinking how lucky your wife is,” Callan kept his tone neutral.

Schneider gave a short laugh. “She only tolerates my childish hobby Mr Callan or do you mean something else perhaps?”

Schneider reached over and turned the frame towards him and shook his head. Schneider dropped the projected warmth and confidence a notch. “To tell the truth, Mr Callan, I don’t deserve her. Jenny loves me and many a man would envy an old dog like me who managed to marry a beautiful woman half my age.”

“You’re not in bad shape Mr Schneider, I can understand her.” Christ, did I say that? Schneider won’t suspect I’ve been sent to kill him, if he suspects anything now will he? 

Schneider smiled at the interruption and carried smoothly on. “I’m a terrible man Mr Callan. I should let her go but I make her happy no? I haven’t been unfaithful to her but I am selfish, I don’t like being on my own. If I met the right person…” Schneider made a gesture and moved closer to Callan.

“The divorce settlement would be generous, no compensation for a broken heart but I can’t see Jenny being sad and alone for long.” Schneider rested his hand on Callan’s arm. “Jenny asked me if you were pretty. She can tell when I’m not thinking about her.” Schneider’s hand moved up to Callan’s shoulder.

You’re a cocky bastard thought Callan. “Pretty what? Pretty sure of yourself?” replied Callan, moving to complete the embrace and kiss Schneider first to show him he couldn’t expect to be in charge all the time.

****  
Back at his flat, Callan sat up sweating. He’d had a nightmare about Schneider again. He didn’t want to kill Schneider but he had to. If only he was back at section he could try and persuade Hunter to change his mind. If he could get Schneider to give up supplying arms. No, he was being stupid. Callan knew he was the best at section, Hunter had admitted it. Marksmanship was only one skill he had as a pro, escape was more important than the kill and hadn’t he mastered that too? 

Callan got up and opened a tin of baked beans to put on the hob. Stirring the beans didn’t make them heat any faster, he did it automatically in a search of a moment of clarity. Getting away from section and to a place free of agents wouldn’t be easy. Callan considered finding Lonely to use his contacts to get him and Schneider fake passports. Callan dismissed the idea. As soon as he and Schneider went section would go straight to Lonely. It would be bad for Lonely. He owed Lonely that much and besides Lonely would squeal and it wouldn’t have been worth getting the passports in the first place.

****  
Schneider fell as if he had been thrown.  


“You took your bloody time,” said Meres, “Let’s get out of here.”

Callan knocked out Meres and Jenny came stumbling in. She took in the scene including her husband lying in a pool of blood. Callan removed the money from Schneider’s safe and pressed the wad in her hand.

“Take this and scarper,” he said.

“I hate you,” said Jenny “I hate you Callan, if I could kill you I would.”

“Alright,” said Callan “I’ll remember. Now get.”

Jenny left.

Callan looked out of the window at Schneider’s home, instead of the police it was an ambulance. It was a day of guests. The attendants came in and silently stretchered off the body. Callan followed he wanted to make sure nothing went wrong. The ambulance doors slammed shut. Callan squeezed himself next to an oxygen tank and looked at the mess in the middle of Schneider’s chest. 

“It’s alright Rudi, you can get up now,” said Callan. Schneider sat up and Callan passed him some towels to clean himself with. From a bag underneath a seat Callan pulled out a change of clothes. “How long to the airfield?” he asked the driver.

“Ten minutes, Squire,”

“Put your foot on it.”

The driver pressed his foot down on the accelerator and turned on the siren. Callan scowled it was too late to tell the man to turn it off.

“Are the passports OK?” asked Callan.

Schneider moved his arm around and under his bulletproof vest and carefully extracted a plastic bag. Callan grabbed the plastic bag fearful the contents of the blood bag, Schneider had under his shirt, could have stained the documents.

“They’re good,” said Callan examining the passports closely. Schneider had used his own contacts in the import and export world to get the passports, he was nearly as good as Lonely in that respect. And far better in all the others. Callan had arranged the ambulance and the bogus stretcher bearers through Lonely. Callan regretted dragging Lonely back into this mess again. Callan had kept Lonely ignorant of his movements, which should prevent Lonely suffering more than usual under someone’s fists by his reckoning. In any case it was the poor buggers in front who would cop it after Lonely inevitably grassed them up. And they wouldn’t be coming back to revenge themselves on Lonely or anyone full stop. Christ, I’m glad to be out of this business thought Callan.

****

The plane shuddered in the turbulence. “Not long now David,” said Schneider.

“Where are we going?” asked Callan looking out at the vast expanse of sea from his position in the aeroplane. Callan had crashed out with the relief of getting to the plane unhinded. From the private airfield in Britain they had flown to an airfield in Ireland and taken off in a different flyer, it was safer that way.

“Argentina.”

Callan raised an eyebrow. Argentina was notorious for harbouring Nazi war criminals. “Do you have friends there?”

“Of course I have friends, Argentine friends I do business with, not persons from the old country,” said Schneider firmly.

“Glad to hear it.”

“I do not wish to find myself in the presence of such disgusting animals.”

“I shan’t let it love,” said Callan checking his noguchi was still tucked into his waistband. “Do you have any friends who would be interested in reducing the animal population?”

Schneider looked at him quizzically.

“I don’t want to be a kept man Rudi. I don’t do well without excitement last time it landed me in the Scrubs for two years.” Callan explained.

“But David I thought you’d had enough of the killing business.”

“I only kill those who deserve it. Hunter kept giving me targets I liked too much.”

Callan smiled and leaned over to kiss Schneider.

The end.


End file.
